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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632104">Fallen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyBufon/pseuds/BettyBufon'>BettyBufon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hogwarts Hospital Wing, M/M, One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:54:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyBufon/pseuds/BettyBufon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighth year one-shot. After a Quidditch match, Harry wakes up in the Hospital wing to a surprising face.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fallen</h2></a>
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    <p>  The quiet, still warmth of Hospital Wing bedding enveloped him, and he lay in silence for a bit, as he tried to piece together what had happened. He always seemed to end up in the Hospital Wing after a Quidditch match, and, since returning to Hogwarts for eight year, Harry had wasted no time in resuming the tradition.</p><p>  He wasn't alone; he could hear someone shuffle in the next bed along, followed by the rustle of a book.</p><p>  They had been playing Slytherin. Just as Harry had returned as seeker, so had Malfoy. His memories of the game were mixed with a blur of blonde, green and silver. He could feel a heavy bandage wrapped around his forehead, and a pattern of bruises were forming along his left side. His head throbbed dangerously, and he exhaled heavily.</p><p>  "Merlin's baggy y-fronts," Harry winced, pressing a hand to his temple. "What happened?"</p><p>  "You fell off your broom chasing the snitch," a voice drawled in response.</p><p>  Hope fluttered in his chest, and his eyes flew open. "Really. Did I catch it?"</p><p>  There was a snort. "Technically."</p><p>  Harry fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table. He knocked them with his fingers, and they clattered to the floor, out of reach.</p><p>  There was another snort. "I'm not sure how; with reflexes like those."</p><p>  Despite his blindness, Harry was beginning to put a face to the voice.</p><p>  "Malfoy," he sighed heavily.</p><p>  "Observant as ever, Potter."</p><p>  He groaned internally, and squinted towards the figure who lay in the bed to his left. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>  The blonde turned his head towards him, and looked at the ceiling again. "I fell off my broom trying to catch you," he said, evasively.</p><p>  Harry frowned. "No..." He tried to remember, and then it dawned on him. "You pushed me," he recalled, with a blank calmness.</p><p>  There was a snort. "I did not-!"</p><p>  "You put your hand on the back of my robes, and-"</p><p>  "Pulled you," Malfoy corrected. "I was trying to save you."</p><p>  Something stirred in Harry's stomach. "Right," he said.</p><p>  He glanced at Malfoy again. He had returned to his book, determinedly leafing through its pages.</p><p><em>  "'Technically'?"</em> Harry's thoughts still dwelled on the game.</p><p>  Malfoy sighed theatrically. "I'm <em>r</em><em>eading,</em> Potter."</p><p>  "Right, right," Harry mumbled. He fell silent.</p><p>  It lasted for precisely twelve seconds.</p><p>  "You know, you're the only one who still talks to me like that."</p><p>  Draco turned a page audibly. "Like what?"</p><p>  He didn't answer. He closed his eyes, and wondered if he might drift back to sleep. Quidditch was the only thing that felt normal to him anymore, and these hospital visits were an unfortunate side-effect.</p><p>  He heard something nearby, and his eyes snapped open. Malfoy stood next to him, and laid his glasses on the bedside table with a slight thud. Wordlessly, he shuffled back over to his own bed, and sat back down on the duvet.</p><p>  "You saved my life," he mumbles, by way of explanation.</p><p>  "And this makes us even?" Harry laughs.</p><p>  Draco picks up the book. "I'd think so."</p><p>  "So we can go back to trying to kill each other now?"</p><p>  He eyes him over the book. "Well, it's only fair."</p><p>  "How'd you reckon?"</p><p>  "Griffindor won the match."</p><p>  "Ah," Harry realises. "I'll see you on the pitch, then," he mumbles, as he slips back into sleep.</p>
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